I have known Sister Ferisha since my 7th or 8th grade. Back then, she was the senior nurse or maybe the head nurse at JM Hospital in Coimbatore. I’m not exactly sure of her title, but what I do remember clearly is the comfort she brought me during one of the most painful recurring experiences of my teenage years: my monthly stomach cramps.

Every month during my periods, I used to get intense abdominal pain. It was so bad that I would vomit and often end up being hospitalized. The pain would only subside after an injection and two bottles of IV drip. Since J M Hospital was close to my hostel and my parents used to consult Dr. Elizabeth there, my hostel warden would book a taxi and take me to the hospital. This happened at least three to four times a year.

At the hospital, I never had to take an OP ticket or wait to see a doctor. The minute Sister Ferisha saw me, she would say, “Oh, you have come?” and promptly get a room ready for me. She would walk in to my room with three bottles of glucose in hand, and I’d groan, “Three bottles? Can we make it two, sister?” She would smile and agree. She remembered exactly what medicines to give me, how my body responded, and what would make me feel better. People who know me well know that injections and IVs don’t faze me. Maybe it’s because I’ have had so many over the years that I just got used to it. Or maybe it’s because the angels at JM Hospital always made it feel a little less scary. And by evening, like magic, I would be back to normal and discharged.

This went on until I completed my Master’s. Then I moved to Chennai for work. One of my only worries was, “what if I have one of those painful episodes again? Who will take care of me like she did?” But strangely, I never had that kind of pain again in Chennai. Maybe the universe knew there was no Sister Ferisha waiting there for me, Or maybe the universe decided I had endured enough pain.

Years passed. I lost touch with her. Life moved on. Then in 2023, life brought me back to her. This time not for me, but for my father. He was unwell and admitted in the same hospital. And there she was again, standing by his side, caring, praying, comforting. Her quiet strength and compassion were the same. Not just her, every nurse at JM Hospital reminded us what angels in uniform look like.

One incident from a recent visit to Coimbatore stays with me. I had some personal work and made an impromptu stop at her house, just to say hi. But within minutes, she ordered dinner for us. While we waited, the animal lover in me kicked in and I started playing with her pet cat, and it scratched my hand. I didn’t think much of it at first, but later I began overthinking, what if I get rabies? Finally, I sheepishly told her. Without skipping a beat, she went to the hospital, got a TT injection, and gave it to me right there at her place. That’s just who she is.

And today, she came to our village for some personal work and stopped by to see us. I told her about a recent snake bite incident, and she got so emotional that her eyes welled up. And then she said something I’ll never forget:
“Your dad was a good man. Nothing bad will happen to his kids. God will protect you.”

That’s Sister Ferisha, a nurse, yes. But to me, she has always been a guardian, a quiet constant, and a reminder that some people are placed in our lives by the divine, just when we need them the most. I wanted to take a photo of her to capture these moments. But when you are having a real, heartfelt conversation, taking out a phone is the last thing on your mind. I will share whatever photos I do have of her someday. But for now, I carry her in my heart, the nurse who became family.

Have you ever met an angel in scrubs? Share your story in the comments!